Victor Surmann was having the toughest race of his career.

The Brazilian Grand Prix, still buzzing with Luca's dominance in the lead, had become a furnace for everyone else behind.

Interlagos, which was once chilly and dewy, now had its temperatures nearing forty, and the air over the asphalt shimmered because of the heat.

This was supposed to be the race Victor wanted to prove he belonged to Trampos.

Specifically, he wanted to prove he was indispensable.

He had come into Sunday trying to mirror Luca's calmness after a very painstaking qualifying session where he achieved P14. Maybe Luca's approach to every race was the finest technique for racing success.

But since every lap after lights out, Victor was reminded of how merciless F1 could be.

Since Lap 1, he had been fighting inside the six-group pocket of himself, Rutherford, Bianchi, and Rice. But after a while, Victor was grateful for his P8 after tactical racing and a pit-phase gamble.

P8— Victor Surmann

P9— Matteo Bianchi

But at P8, he was still under siege. Behind him, Matteo Bianchi raced barbarically as if his tires wobbled from damage.

Victor knew who Matteo was.

He was another rookie, but molded in privilege. As a Velocità driver, he had a faster car and sharper tech Victor could never compete with.

The Tempesta engine had always had a cruel way of sounding confident. Ever since DiMarco's time piloting it, it hadn't sounded this distinct.

Victor didn't need the rear cameras to know where his rival was. Using the pressure alone, he positioned himself for defense while also racing optimally.

'Stay calm. Think like Luca. Be Luca.'

Victor clenched his steering wheel harder through the first sector of Lap 39. Though his V22 was inferior, it was balanced through the S of T1 and T2, where he blocked the line into T2 against Matteo.

**Good defense, Victor. Keep it tidy. Look out for DRS**

When the first straight flashed open, Matteo didn't even bother trying to act unpredictably like S-class drivers would.

Everyone expected him to use DRS against Surmann, and he did without hesitation at T4's output. The G-forces were punishment to him, but the RBioL's power boost was gold.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"

"...Good grief! Such speed! No gap left!"

"Hrrrngh," the Italian grunted as he closed his flaps for T5, going wide.

Victor's scarlet car was pretty close, risking a contact, but Matteo deftly went wide, tearing his rubber as he tried to outbrake the German from the outside.

As Matteo's tires ripped grass, Victor thought he was mad.

His rival could do whatever he wanted with his race, but he shouldn't drag him into it!

The two cars screamed through the bend, one hanging with the curbs, the other stable at the apex.

"...Bianchi tries to slip in for Turn 7! Can he have it? Can he have it?"

"WOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!"

SKRSH!

**We have contact, Vic. Safe. Keep moving**

'He's faster, but I can make him impatient at every apex,' Victor thought, his heart pounding after the vibration. 'That's what Luca would do.'

Through the rest of the lap, the V22 stood its ground beautifully because Matteo received a caution from his team regarding his aggression and minor front wing tear.

This gave Victor recovery time, but that was only just for a minute or so, because Matteo resumed his relentlessness in sector two of Lap 40, right after T8's slope.

Victor had been doing his best to mimic Luca's demeanor when racing, and even his driving itself. But deep down, he was still frightened, and he was still that anxious rookie with subpar racecraft.

When Matteo attacked at T9, Victor swallowed and cut in to block the prodigy's path.

Big mistake, as both cars clipped each other in the heat waves. They snapped like Lego sets, adjusted, and somehow stayed in line, though Matteo's speed prior to the contact affected Victor's stability.

"Contact between Bianchi and Surmann at Turn 9! THAT'S INCREDIBLE CAR CONTROL FROM BOTH! Still in the race, they are…!"

Victor tried to stabilize the V22 as quickly as he could. He was very lucky it wasn't a wet race because he would have been done for.

It wasn't even a debate that the RBioL was far superior in downforce and stability. Hence, Bianchi exited T9 much cleaner than the wobbling Ferrari man.

Victor's eyes grew partially watery as his rival surged ahead into Turn 10, the gradient pulling them through the wide sweeper.

Mr. Ruben shouted for his challenge, but Victor couldn't, even as he helped himself to Matteo's slipstream into T11 and T12.

The position was lost once the Red Bull launched down the straight with flashing red lights and an aesthetic back.

P8— Matteo Bianchi ↑

P9— Victor Surmann ↓

"...MATTEO BIANCHI TAKES P8 FOR VELOCITÀ! Surmann just handed Trampos' rivals the key to the top five! He's shaken by the two contacts, but BIANCHI makes it out stronger…!"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"

**Nice try, Vic. He's faster. Just keep it clean, bring it home**

P8 had been his highest attained position ever. Victor wanted it back so he could know he was making some sort of progress—to one day at least finish in the top five.

He always wondered what it was like to race up ahead.

He could see all those colors swooping into the turns and down the straight, leading the pack lap after lap.

Victor wondered when he could get there one day too.

From what he could see, Matteo would reach it first. This duel he lost was a clear reason why.

P8— Matteo Bianchi +6.55

P9— Victor Surmann +7.12

As Victor mulled over some thoughts, his face turned blank like a determined soldier.

Half a lap later, he stripped off his third visor protection so far this race, giving him a clear view as he chased Matteo's slipstream again, hoping to build something over time.

The turbulence hit like waves, pushing his front end wide regularly, but he corrected with subtle steering as needed.

While he was learning more while racing, the radio relayed something he didn't want to hear.

**Be advised, Vic. Jimmy's coming**

Jimmy?

As in Jimmy Damgaard?

Velocità's ace? Matteo's teammate? The real threat?

Jimmy Damgaard had started in P19 after his qualifying crash, but the Norwegian was a monster in race pace. He was literally undisputable, carving through and felling flags.

Victor remembered watching a leaked feed of Velocità's training.

If he hadn't witnessed enough on track, he saw more perfection there.

Cold and precise, Damgaard raced like a robot who only wanted to win, and nothing else.

Glancing at the mirrors, Victor didn't see the Red Bull yet because of the plains, but the telemetry showed a shrinking gap of 2.8 seconds.

Elsewhere on the track…

Damgaard was on a rampage indeed.

Although he had spent more than a handful of laps clawing back from qualifying disaster, he had tapped into that groove much like drivers of his caliber often did.

Overtaking Luis Dreyer on the main straight, switching lines on Rutherford through the S, then locking horns with Marko Ignatova.

Marko had been the biggest problem, of course.

Marko was known for leniency, but to Jimmy, he wasn't. Since both of them started at the bottom, he registered him as the closest rival he wouldn't let go of.

Now in P12, Damgaard, P10—it seemed the Norwegian prevailed over the Russian in Interlagos.

**Next target, the Ferrari. P9 is Surmann, P8 is our boy. You know what to do**

"Copy," Damgaard replied in his flat tone. "We box him."

**Affirmative. Matteo knows the plan**

The two Velocità cars were about to converge in a manner that spelled danger for Trampos' Surmann.

**Victor, Jimmy's within DRS. Matteo's lifting ahead to help him close. Don't get baited**

Victor's warning came pretty late because Trampos was expecting Damgaard to merely overtake him, and not try to end his race in a sinister strategy!

'They're setting me up!' Victor panicked inwardly.

The synchronized movement of the two blue cars ahead and behind wasn't coincidental. They were perfectly aligned and coordinated, and that always meant something in F1 known for chaos.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!"

The crowd's noise swelled again as the three cars formed a blistering triad through the Esses.

Matteo, following orders, stayed intentionally slow. This regularly forced Victor to brake earlier than ideal, giving Damgaard the chance to shrink the gap.

"...Damgaard! Out of nowhere! Surmann is trapped in blue!"

'Stay cool. Think like Luca.'

Unfortunately, no matter how he tried, Victor couldn't remain cool. His hands shook, and his heart pounded through his race suit.

Their pressure continued for a lap, with Matteo ahead and Jimmy holding from the side.

Whenever Matteo slowed, Victor had no choice but to brake harder to avoid contact. Damgaard would then push ahead to shake his focus.

This malevolent cycle always forced Victor to twitch his steering in panic.

**Careful, Victor! Jesus, that was close—!**

"WOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!"

The crowd was on its feet, gasping and thrilled.

It was a surprise why Velocità decided to punish Victor when Damgaard could overtake both him and Matteo at once.

Luca, at P1, had no clue what his teammate was facing. He was expecting Damgaard to be in the top ten soon or even the top five.

He didn't know his rival was in the process of crushing Trampos' morale by crashing their second driver.

Victor gritted his teeth, his eyes locked ahead at Matteo, and at the slope of T8, the inevitable.

'I can't hold them both...'